A Certain Point of View

by GuyverChaz

Many of the truths that we cling to depend entirely on our own point of view. How much of what we know of the Knight Sabers world is taken from the point of view of Sylia and crew? Now Updated and Properly formatted. Preview of chap 9 is up.

7. Chapter 7

Sylia's eyes fluttered open and took in the surrounding landscape. She was lying face down in a bed with an IV slowly dripping into her bloodstream. The light in the room was almost too dim to see Nene napping in an armchair by her side. The redhead had probably kept watch on her all night. She slowly turned her head to the side. Pain gripped her by the spine. For a moment her eyes clamped shut in agony. A slight wash of dizziness and nausea passed over her and then she had it mastered. Taking a deep ragged breath she concentrated on not moving unnecessarily. Obviously she wasn't in the best of shape. She tilted her head a little as the door behind her slid open. Silently a person walked into the room. A breath of cold air caressed her skin making her shiver slightly as someone pulled back the bed covers. A cold pressure touched her bare skin making her inhale sharply. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt, Sylia?" Chaz's voice asked solicitously. Sylia relaxed a little at the voice. "No. It was just a little shocking. How bad is it?"

Chaz drew the covers back up to cover Sylia's heavily bandaged back. "Not as bad as it probably feels. You've got a bad second-degree burn shading to third in some spots. It was just bad enough to warrant using artificial skin. I followed the med-centers advice and put you on fluids and an antirad serum for the time being. Mackie wanted to use a pain killer but I vetoed that idea until I could get your input." Chaz pulled up a chair and sat down. "Do you want something for the pain?" he asked as he offered her a sip of water.

Sylia shook her head and regretted it slightly. "No. I need to keep my head clear. I take it one of those boomers got me?" A small amount of water from the straw worked its way down her throat making it easier for her to speak.

"Yeah. Beam punched a hole clean through your vernier wings. KSBB took a lot of the charge but you were so low on power it couldn't pull all it needed." He pulled the water away and offered a small bite of the fruit salad.

Sylia chewed absently. "Okay. Where's everybody?" she said around a mouthful of peach.

"I chased 'em out. Mackie's running the Silky Doll." He offered another bite of fruit salad. "Linna's teaching class and Priss is rehearsing."

"Good." Anything that kept their visibility down was good. "What else?"

Chaz shrugged. "I've been trying to clean up the sauna and fix some of the damage. I hauled down a piece of armor plate and sealed the hole in the garage. Mackie says the nano-tank is fixable if we can get the parts. He said to tell you that the cylinder checks out okay."

Sylia breathed a faint sigh of relief. So, it wasn't a complete loss anyway. If the control cylinder had been damaged it would have been unrepairable, it was the heart of the system. "Okay. Tell him to start making a list of what we need. When Nene wakes up have her cover for Mackie in the Silky Doll." She winced a little. "When did the med-center say I could expect to be up and around?"

Chaz shrugged. "You've got at least a week before you can get in a hardsuit again. You should be able to sit up in a day or so. Until then you should sleep."

Sylia sighed. It was just as well. Most of the work she had to do was in her head anyway.

The tall boomeroid walked over and gently picked up the slumbering redhead. "I left the intercom on. Call me if you need anything."

Sylia nodded and winced again. This was going to take some getting used to.

Matter Over Mind Productions

Presents

Mega-Tokyo 2032

The Knight Sabers

"A Certain Point of View."

Chapter 7 "Certain Surprises"

Copyright (c) 2005 Charles S. Stitman

He was swinging from tree to tree deep in the heart of the jungle. Each reach of his long hairy arms was a delight. Muscles, shaped by nature for precisely this task, stretched easily. With uncommon grace he swung off of a tree limb, a brief unsupported soar, then catching the next with his feet and rolling into another swing. Each branch bounced only slightly as he passed disturbing a couple leaves and nothing else. His breath was calm and even giving no hint of effort or strain. Silent as a whisper he passed through the green canopy, the faint breeze of his passage the only movement of air in the warm, humid night.

Smells assailed his sensitive nostrils as the thick atmosphere parted around him. In the distance he could smell the cook fires of humans and the sweet seductive scent of tobacco. There was also the scent of a female close by. He KNEW this one. Then she was with him, her dark long fur and shining eyes. A sense of unease went through him. The incongruity of her swinging beside him escaped him. Both strange and familiar, the scent and sight of her both attracted and repelled him. He started to reach for her. . .

With a start, Fargo woke up. Almost fifteen years and he was still having the same goddamn dream. Reaching out with an arm that after all these years STILL seemed too short he grabbed his cigarettes from the night table. Probably just as well he hadn't brought that girl home from the bar tonight, he thought as he pulled up the covers into a more comfortable nest and lit one of his cancer sticks. Even after all the trouble he'd gotten into with them he couldn't shake the habit. It wasn't even the nicotine anymore. He just felt more comfortable with a coffin nail between his lips. After a few puffs he'd relaxed enough to lie back in his nest and think.

He supposed he couldn't complain. Katsuhito had meant well. It wasn't like he'd had any long-term prospects at the time either. He'd been a forty-year-old orang with near terminal lung cancer when the good doctors work had progressed far enough to require an advanced test subject. So when the BioEscape Corporation had decided to "euthanize" their behavior research subject Stingray had stepped in and rescued him. If he had known than what he knew now would he have been as peaceful about it?

Fargo gave a low chuckle. Probably not. Than again he wouldn't have been able to understand it then either. He could still remember what it felt like when the cold needle slipped into his vein and a few billion experimental micro-machines went to work on his brain. He could even remember his first coherent thought. It hadn't been exactly in words, but the feeling was quantifiable enough. It had been something like, 'I've been SO stupid!' Then had followed the months of language acquisition and the dawning comprehension that he'd gained true sentience just in time to die. Fargo tapped the ash off his cigarette and slipped deeper into his nest. Not that Katsu had let THAT happen. His attention was pulled away from his reverie by a soft sound. Immediately the darkness disappeared as his vision went to light-amplification mode.

Moving quietly, Fargo lifted his gun from under his pillow. Damn! Something HAD woken him up! No use trying to figure out who or why. There were too many suspects and reasons. Sliding silently from his bed he crouched behind his bed. Whoever it was they were going to be very surprised. Then he saw her. She moved quiet and slow obviously hoping to catch him asleep.

Fargo's nostrils opened wide as he sucked in her scent. Damn! A Boomer! Well that did narrow the possibilities a bit didn't it? She didn't look like much, but most of them didn't. He listened carefully to her footfalls as she moved through the spacious apartment. Nope. Not a heavy combat model. She was probably a handmaiden type. Your basic Bu-33C. At least he hoped so. If she were alone she wouldn't be much of a problem. She probably wasn't. He had two advantages though. They wanted him alive and they didn't seem to know WHAT they were dealing with yet. If he could manage to make his way to the closet he'd be all…

It was at times like these that he wished he believed in a deity so he could have someone to swear at. The bitch HAD brought company! The second intruder's lighter footfalls probably meant she was walking on the throw rug in the living room. Both of the would be kidnappers had finished their sweep of the apartment and were moving in on his bedroom. He didn't dare cock his gun. Their enhanced hearing would pick it up as easily as his did, probably better; he hadn't had an upgrade in a while. The window was behind him and it was six meters to the street. The question was how many had they sent? Gripping his gun tightly, he took a deep drag on his nicotine stick and leaped.

Somewhere behind the apartment buildings and distant skyscrapers the sun was setting. The last light of the day, filtered through the air and the still lingering smog of a past era, shone a deep red on the narrow street between the buildings. A few people, most on their way home, ignored the light as they did most things. Individually and in groups they scurried about their affairs as if anxious to be off the streets.

Moving slowly a black bike and rider made their way down the street.

He checked the next building. Hmm… 1278. He looked across the street. 1291. Had to be around here somewhere. His bike barely ticking over Chaz scanned the passing, faded building numbers. He supposed he should be grateful. The numbers, though faded, were at least in order. The first time he'd been in Tokyo, way back when, he'd spent over two hours trying to find a house number. Ah! There it is. Slipping the dark bike to the side of the road he stopped and looked up at the building. Not quite what he'd expected from a pro-racer. Arming the bikes alarm system, Chaz stepped off the motorcycle and headed for the lobby.

The building was a little run down but still in good repair. Here and there showed small refinements. A glint of dusty chrome or brass hinted at a time when the building had been a nice hotel. Now, with the canyon only a half-mile away, it was just a low rent apartment building.

Chaz caught a glimpse of a larger piece of bronze and stopped for a look. An old dedication sign proclaimed this the 'Loves 69' building. Hmm. . . built in 2021. He chuckled. That explained the opulence. It'd been an old love hotel. It had also been built the same year the Griffin line of cars had been introduced by HMJ to Japan, a fact the occupant he was there to seek surely knew.

Brushing the disturbed dust from his clothing, Chaz bounded up the stairs, his steps reverberating in the barren stairway. Reaching the third floor he looked around. Unlike the other floors he'd passed, this one was well kept. The windows were clean, allowing the remaining sunlight from outside to shine on the well-swept and polished floor. Pops had said that they lived in room 321. Turning to face the door squarely, Chaz quickly checked his attire. Given the neighborhood, the pair he was looking for would be unlikely the door to any old riffraff. Maybe he should have called first. Oh well, it was too late now. Having tentatively given himself an okay, he rapped on the heavy oak door. He grinned slightly at the sound. Oak it might be on the outside but the thing had a core of steel. It'd take more than a bit of effort to get through if the person on the other side didn't unlock it first.

Behind the door he heard the sound of muffled footsteps. To the left of the door a small screen lit up. A petite Japanese girl with long black hair dressed in comfortable work clothes stared back at him curiously.

"May I help you?" she asked politely.

Chaz stepped in front of the screen and gave the camera his best grin. "Hello. I've come to get my coat back."

She stared at him for a moment then with a shriek she cut the connection.

Chaz looked at the now dead screen and cursed. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? Busting down the door, would be counter productive, not to mention a major pain in the ass. Shrugging, he turned away. He'd just have to ask Doc Raven to act as a go between. The sound of activity beside the door halted him.

Bolts and bars slid back and the door sprang open. Naomi stood there smiling and a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry. Please come in."

Chaz stepped in to the traditional Japanese foyer and removed his boots.

Looking up from his boots, Chaz gave a low mental whistle. Rather than being the small living space he'd expected the apartment was huge. Walls along the hallway had been knocked down leaving only the support structures in place. Everywhere he looked signs of an ongoing reconstruction were apparent. A small smile spread across his face. The emerging style was definitely remarkable. Old and new mixed together in a fashion that was decidedly homey. The high ceilinged, open flat was given shape by traditional shoji and tatami while the furniture they enclosed was a mixture of early twentieth and modern.

Naomi shut the door behind and blushed slightly. "Would you like some tea?"

Chaz shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't stay long. I just came by to pick up my jacket."

The young woman looked flustered. "Surely you have time to drink a small cup of tea," she said entreatingly. "Gib isn't here right now, but I expect him back soon. I'm sure he'd be very disappointed if he missed you."

The boomeroid smiled and gave in. "Than by all means let us share a cup of tea."

Naomi smiled brightly and led him to a small well-lit room. "Please make yourself comfortable while I put on the kettle."

Happily Chaz sat in the last orange rays from the setting sun streaming in from the skylight and observed the room. It seemed to be a room designed for waiting. Whoever had decorated it had exquisite taste. Wherever the eye moved it found a restful place to relax. Painted shoji and a small hanami display shared space with Ukyoe prints. The most prominently displayed items though were of a decidedly more martial flavor. Sitting in the display area of the room in front of a well cared for and ancient drum sat an 18th century set of armor and a pair of samurai swords on a plain display rack.

Moving closer he looked over the artifacts carefully without touching them. Each was perfectly preserved and cared for. Not a grain of dust marred the polished, lacquered helmet or the satin finished wood of the drum. He could only assume that the swords were in similar shape, not being so crass as to pull them from their scabbards to check.

He'd become so wrapped up in the beauty of the artwork and display he'd almost missed the return of his hostess. The sound of the paper shoji being slid back into position pulled him back from his reverie in time to see her enter with the tea. She didn't seem to mind his preoccupation. Stepping inside she kneeled and moved the shoji back in place. With this tacit approval, Chaz went back to his study.

While her visitors golden eyes roamed over the artwork Naomi poured the tea and studied the mystery before her. Tall and broader than she remembered he seemed totally absorbed in what he was doing. Not a muscle twitch or a foot shuffle broke the intense concentration. She and Gib had spent a substantial sum of money and time looking for this man only to come up empty. Nobody they had talked to or hired had been able to tell them anything about him. The only proof of his existence they had was the battered bodies of the, now mostly incarcerated, Outriders and the jacket he'd left behind. In this day and age it was almost impossible for someone of ANY walk of life to be completely untraceable. Even the homeless in the street had records of some kind. Not so the man before her. Covered from head to toe in black kevlar and denim he looked akin to the ones he'd fought. She wondered if he was cold. He seemed unwilling to take off the gloves and jacket he wore. In fact the only bit of exposed flesh was his head.

Chaz finished his examination of the armor and sipped at his tea. "These are truly beautiful. Are they yours or Gibsons?"

Naomi smiled proudly. "They're mine. When the earthquake hit almost my entire family was in Tokyo. I was only recently able to lay claim to my families ancestral treasures." She'd also had to fight off three museums and a couple collectors who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "Do you truly like them?"

He smiled broadly. "Yes. You're very lucky to have such fine pieces. Are the other works here originals as well?"

"Mmm…" She nodded as she sipped her tea. "My mother's family was very proud of their heritage. Are you familiar with the story of the Forty-Seven Ronin?"

Chaz shrugged. "A little. I know the basic facts behind it."

Naomi smiled and nodded at the artifacts. "Well that's the Asano war drum and Oishi's armor and katana."

Chaz looked over the pieces again with new respect. If what she said were true many would consider these national treasures. Priceless didn't begin to cover their historical and cultural worth. "Are you a direct line descendant?" he asked curiously.

Her hair stirred slightly as she gently shook her head. "No. I'm from a related branch. However, I am all that's left of the family. A fact that I owe to you."

"Huh?"

Naomi blushed prettily at her mistake. "I meant that without your help the line might have ended with my death." She bowed deeply, her deep black hair pooling like a dark pond on the floor before her.

Chaz scratched his head in embarrassment. "Umm. . . You're welcome. Glad I could help."

Naomi sat back up easily. "Not many would have stopped."

He shifted uncomfortably. Most wouldn't have stopped because they were afraid of getting hurt. It wasn't as if he'd been at risk. It was hard to feel heroic when the worst that could have happened was that his clothing would get torn.

She seemed to sense his discomfort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Chaz tipped the last of the tea down his throat. "I really do have to be going Ms. Anderson," he said politely.

"Oh. Perhaps next time you'll be able to stay longer," she said hopefully.

Chaz grinned at the implied invitation. "Perhaps. Please tender my apologies to Mr. Gibson. I am sorry I can't stay longer."

She stood gracefully. "Of course. Let me go get your coat for you then."

"Thank you."

Following Naomi to the door he put on his boots while she went to get his coat.

A faint sigh of relief went through him at the sight of the black metal bar sitting on top of the neatly folded coat. The worst obviously hadn't happened. If anyone had really LOOKED at it he could have been in trouble.

Naomi looked slightly troubled. "You will come back and see us won't you? I'm sure Gibson would like to thank you too."

He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be sure to stop in the next time I'm in the area."

She returned the smile and opened the door for him. "Okay. Until then."

Chaz stepped outside and gave her a slight bow. "Until then."

Naomi bowed deeply until he was out of sight on the stairs than went back inside.

It wasn't until after dark that she heard the big engine of the Griffin coming up the street and parking downstairs. A few moments later J.B. Gibson, still in his racing jumpsuit, stepped through the door.

Naomi gave him a slight frown and looked pointedly at the time.

Gibson looked abashed. "Sorry about that. The car broke down and I had to wait an extra couple hours to make my qualifying lap." He gave her a small kiss. "Anything happen here?" he asked making his way to the shower.

Naomi gave a slight smile. "Not really. Our friend on the motorcycle finally showed up to claim his coat."

Gibson froze. "Really?" He looked back at her smile and gave her one to match. "What's his name? Did you tell him about. . ."

"Nope. I didn't tell him. That's YOUR surprise." It was her turn to look abashed. "I uh kind of forgot to ask. I didn't tell him about my secret either."

Gibson looked incredulous. "You forgot to ask! After all the effort we went through and you forgot?" Oblivious to his sweaty condition he sat down heavily on the bed. "Well did you find out anything about him?" he asked with his hand held theatrically over his eyes.

Naomi sat down and started rubbing his shoulders. "Not really. I'm sorry Gib. I know you really wanted to tell him yourself." She whapped his shoulder. "Besides you didn't answer the page I sent."

The race driver smacked himself in the head. "Is that what that was about? I didn't get it until I was already in the car. Next time I'll have Daniel patch it through to the headset." He smiled up at Naomi. "We'll just have to wait and see if he comes by again." Gently he caressed Naomi's stomach.

Naomi sat in Gibsons lap and gave him a kiss. "I hope we'll be able to find him in time. It would be a shame if he missed the wedding."

Gibson smiled.

Mackie looked at the mess around him and sighed. Morosely he installed yet ANOTHER replacement module and turned on the standby power again. With a beep and hum the system began its diagnostic sequence. A small smile spread across his face. At least this time the operating system had come up. With a snap, a spark and a whiff of ozone the computer crashed again. The smile turned sickly as Mackie turned off the power and buried his face in his hands. How was he supposed to fix this thing? His eyes went over the piles of burnt out, cracked and destroyed parts in front of him. He was beginning to think it would be easier to just tell his sister what WASN'T broken. Reaching into the broken control computer he replaced another burnt out component from his shrinking stack of spares. The Hou Bang had supplied them with enough spares for routine maintenance. If he was lucky he could at least repair enough of the core systems so that he could have the damn machine do a complete diagnostic on itself. Luckily the cylinder was self-checking. If anything went out of alignment the transparent mono-crystal material would slowly turn milky.

Chaz stepped into the sauna and took a look around. Mackie was half-buried in the gut of the nano-tank control unit. Parts, diagrams and burnt bits of kipple were scattered in a circle around the mostly dismantled machine. Mackie, apparently oblivious to the boomeroid popped out of the machinery and clipped a diagnostic tool to the component in his hand. Chaz was a bit shocked. Mackie looked like a traffic accident survivor. Hmm make that victim. Coughing to draw the teen's attention, he stepped away from the door and into the room.

Mackie blinked as he registered the others presence. With a shake of his head he forced himself back to reality. "Oh. Hi Chaz."

Chaz knelt next to the junior technophile. "You okay Mackie? You look like hell."

Mackie managed a slight grin. "Good. Then I'm improving. Linna said I looked like an out of shape zombie who had let himself go."

Chaz chuckled. That sounded like the dancer. "Maybe you should take a break."

Mackie looked around at the machine and a genuine grin spread across his face as he took in what Chaz had said. "You think working on this is what made me so tired?" He shook his head in negation. "THIS is my relaxation period."

"Oh. Than what. . ."

Mackie blushed a bright red and wished he hadn't brought it up. "Um."

Chaz's eyes got wider as he desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot. It was fairly obvious what was going on. The hard part would be telling Sylia. Of course that assumed she didn't already know.

/Don't look at me lover. I didn't think of it either./

"Um. . ."

/Brilliant./ Chaz got the feeling Newton was covering her metaphorical eyes. As soon as Sylia was up and about he was going to have her check out Newton. The personality overlays comments were becoming more and more frequent and it was beginning to give him the creeps.

Mackie looked like he was enjoying this.

Chaz sighed and changed the topic. "So how is the repair coming?"

Mackie unclipped the diagnostic tool and pitched the part into the scattered circle with the rest and grimaced. "Not so good. I think I can rebuild it but it's going to take a few weeks. That's IF we can get the parts. On the other hand it's not a total loss." He patted the translucent mono-crystal cylinder. "If that thing had cracked the cylinder we'd have been out of luck." A not insignificant part of his mind reminded him that getting this thing fixed even WITH the parts was going to take longer than a week. His ego pounced on it and pounded into dust. He could do it. Sure you can. Right? Panic began to settle in.

Chaz looked at the piece in question oblivious to Mackie's predicament. Even after he'd seen the specs it was hard to believe. Inside the seemingly ordinary material were more than ten billion sensors and molecule sized control units. The whole assembly was so precisely aligned and patterned that the control units had to account for the magnetic interference generated by a human hand touching it. As it was, the resolution of this tank was slightly below that of its space based brethren. He looked back at the teen. "A week huh? Well I suppose we can wait that long anyway."

Mackie grimaced. "Not like we have a choice." He searched for a way to change the topic. "Incidentally, I finished the specs for your new hardsuit and motoroid."

Chaz gaped. "When the hell did you have time to do that?"

Mackie picked up another spare part and ducked back into nano-tanks guts. "Nene and I spent most of the past few nights pulling designs off the net and modifying them to fit our needs." He fitted the component and tested the connection. "Since there are so few tanks available most micro-designers just publish what they've done in the hopes that a corp finds them interesting enough to build."

Chaz hunkered down and peered into the mostly dismantled machinery. "I don't get it. Why don't you and Sylia just sit down and design what you want from scratch?"

Mackie pulled out of the machine enough to give Chaz an incredulous stare. "You have GOT to be kidding. Why don't you go down to the databank room and take a look at the designs we pulled down."

Chaz shrugged. "I'll do it later. You want me to stay and help?"

Mackie grinned. "Nah. I prefer to do the hands on stuff by myself." What are you saying? asked the more rational part of his brain.

"Okay. Thought I'd ask." He stood and dusted himself off.

The teen listened to Chaz's footsteps fading away, took a deep breath and groaned. He defiantly had a case of foot in mouth. How the hell was he going to get this thing working in a week? Cursing his own reflexive brag, he dug another cracked component out and tested it. With a growl and a curse he pitched it over his shoulder. A miracle that's what he needed a miracle.

Nene sighed and shifted her shoulders. She wasn't sure which was worse the lunchtime rush or the mid-afternoon doldrums. At least when she'd been in the ADP she'd always had something to do.

"Excuse me miss?"

The statuesque redhead looked at her petitioner. Forcing herself, she smiled brightly. "Yes sir. How may I help you?"

He returned the smile and held up a piece of lingerie so sheer it was barely there. Small light-sensitive crystals embedded in the fabric threw out faint colored sparkles giving the effect of holding a sci-fi force field. "I was just looking at this and I was wondering. . .well my girlfriend and you are about the same size. . "

This time Nene managed to control her temper. The first two propositions had nearly driven her into a rage. Still smiling brightly she shook her head. "I'm sorry sir. I only work here part time and I'm not allowed to model the clothing for customers." Although, Sylia had mentioned having her pose professionally for the catalog.

Disappointment showed on his face then disappeared quickly. "Well how about if I buy it and you can model it for me later in private?" He tried but couldn't seem to control his leer.

Nene's face began to get stormy and then the guy finished his proposition.

"I could pay you."

Hidden by the curtain behind the register, Chaz winced. This was going to be ugly. He'd walked in just before the customer had started talking. Actually he was surprised that Nene hadn't blown up already. She had more endurance than he had thought.

The redhead's hand whipped out with a speed that would have startled Priss. Her fingers gripped the pervert's shirt and pulled him half over the counter. In a cool voice Nene addressed her victim. "The garment you are holding costs. . ." her eyes flickered to the tag and did a quick computation, "twenty-thousand two hundred yen. If you are interested in your continued good health you will pay for it and leave."

Shaken, the patron paid hurriedly and left. Nene watched him icily until he left the store. Checking to make sure he was gone, she wrote down his credit card number down on a half-filled pad.

Chaz joined in the applause from the few ladies in the store. The guy was lucky in a way, Priss would have ripped the guys lungs out. Nene would only trash his credit rating. Coughing slightly to draw her attention he stepped up to the counter.

Nene spun ready to rip the throat out of the newcomer and pulled up short when she saw Chaz. "Oh…Um…Sorry.."

The boomeroid grinned making female customers in the store sigh. "No problem. I have to say that was the most aggressive marketing technique I've ever seen though."

Nene blushed and giggled slightly. "I've been having to fend off offers like that all day." She turned a little more serious. "I'm beginning to see what you meant," she said sheepishly.

He nodded ruefully. "Yeah. It gets tough sometimes. I thought you might like a break."

She smiled and walked around the counter quickly before he could change his mind. "You bet! I need to get lunch and to take care of a few things." Quickly gathering her things, she headed for the door.

Chaz stepped smoothly behind the counter. "Okay then. I'll see you in a couple hours." He turned to the growing line of women. Inside each of their eyes he could see the same thing. Sighing deeply, he reached for the first item and began to ring up the sale, his ears already hearing the beginning of a familiar refrain.

"Do you think this would look good on me?…Maybe I should try it on and see what you…"

It was going to be a LONG two hours.

Perspiration soaking her headband and making the skintight leotard seem almost painted on, Linna slowly lifted her leg until it pointed straight up. With a quick, fluid motion she brought it down and around in a kick that slammed into the heavy bag making it jump. Following through, her hand came around in a powerful arc that knocked the bag six inches into the air. The sound of the door opening behind her drew her attention away from her workout.

Keith stood, shaking with rage, in the center of the door a piece of paper gripped tightly in his hand. "What's this Linna!" He shook the paper. "What the fuck is this!"

Linna shrugged and went into a stretching exercise. "It's exactly what it looks like Keith. It's a recall notice from your unit."

Her former co-instructor stalked angrily up to her. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I was supposed to be permanently posted here. Why did you do it?"

The dancer rolled backward into a handstand and mid-air split. "I need someone that's not in a contest with me Keith. I kept you originally because you showed the most technical promise of any of the students they sent. To your credit you fulfilled that promise. But I don't need someone who's trying to one up me. So to make the transition easier I called up a couple people and arranged to have you reassigned to your old unit." She flexed her arms and walked out of the handstand. Adjusting the sweaty headband over her eyes, she eyed the mercenary evenly.

"What about us huh?" he demanded angrily.

Linnas eyes flashed in the first sign of anger she'd shown. "Us? You have got to be joking. If you were serious at all about our relationship you wouldn't have gone down to that Shinjuku pink salon every weekend."

Embarrassment swept through him. "You bitch!" Keith could feel the anger growing in his gut.

Oblivious to the mans growing fury Linna continued,. "To tell you the truth I didn't mind that much. I'm not the jealous type. What was insulting was that you thought I wouldn't find out."

"You'll still need a co-instructor," Keith growled. She was going to pay for this.

Linna slid gracefully into a back somersault that wound up with her perched on top of the pommel horse and, not coincidentally, five feet farther away from her irate former instructor. "Robert Wade is coming along. He's not as good as you but he's more stable." With a hop she returned to the mat. Her mind churned up one more comment. She paused and then decided to say it anyway. "He's also better in bed than you are."

Keith's anger boiled over and he lunged for the dancer. "That's it you whore! I've had all I'm gonna take from you."

Carefully controlling her movement, Linna used an Aikido movement to send Keith sprawling. "You don't want to do this Keith," she warned. Her stance shifted forward slightly into an attack posture.

Keith came up from where he was thrown. He'd let his anger get away from him but he was ready now. In a hardsuit he couldn't beat her, but she wasn't wearing one now was she? Circling carefully, he ignored her warnings.

Linna waited for the attack calmly. As Keith came forward, leading with a kick, She went into motion. In a drop that left her hair hanging momentarily weightless, she swept his grounded foot from underneath him sending him to the mat again. Moving nimbly, she dodged the return sweep and backed up to give herself more room. Keith was a close in fighter and outweighed her by twenty kilos. Her best bet was to keep her distance until he left himself open. In ten minutes or less her first class of the day would begin to arrive she wanted this to be done before then.

Keith, winded by the two falls, moved in more cautiously. He'd rarely sparred with Linna unarmed and was more than a little surprised at her skill. He grinned ferally. He'd win in the end though. Then she'd pay. He continued circling looking for a good opening.

Linna didn't need this. Part of her mind, even in the middle of a fight, was still on Sylia. It was throwing her off slightly. Concentrating hard, she tried to put her worries out of her head. This was serious. If Keith managed to get close to her he'd put her in the hospital or worse.

Keith, seeing her slight distraction, went for her. Hands and feet flashing, he moved in on the dancer.

Pressed, Linna moved back away from the onslaught. Waiting until she saw it unguarded, she snap kicked her antagonist in the crotch. The results were gratifying.

Gasping in pain, the agonized mercenary backed away hurriedly. With a shake of his head he threw off the majority of the pain. Taking a deep breath he started moving in again. Sooner or later she'd slip. He could take punishment all day if he had to.

Linna started looking for a way out of this. Even when he was in pain Keith didn't open up much, certainly not enough to take advantage of. Her plan of simply outlasting him wasn't going to work. She was realistic enough to know when a fight was hopeless.

Keith watched Linna's eyes move to the door and hastily changed position to put himself between her and it. "Uh uh, Linna. You an me, we're gonna finish this right here."

The dance instructor's dark eyes hardened and grew cold. Slowly she began working herself back to the gymnastics area. If Keith was overconfident enough. . . A cool joy came to her heart as Keith moved to keep himself close to her and between her and the door. Two more steps and Keiths eyes still hadn't moved from her. He just didn't get it.

The big man grinned and stepped back enough to sweep the sweat out of his eyes. A little more and he'd have her. She was running out of room. He felt a stirring in his groin as he contemplated victory. Yes, the final humiliation before he left her broken and bleeding.

Linna felt the carpeted spring floor beneath her feet and allowed herself a small smile. A couple more feet and she'd have him.

Seeing his prize so close, Keith charged.

Linna leaned back into a series of handsprings that left her well out of the grasp of her opponent. Borrowing a leaf from Chaz's book, she bounced off the back wall and sprang to the attack.

Keith didn't know what to make of it. Blow after blow landed on him as he tried desperately to defend himself. No matter what he did he couldn't seem to lay a glove on her. His head swung to the right with the force of Linna's seemingly effortless jump kick. He felt his feet swept again and the ground came rushing up to meet him. Rolling quickly he tried to get out the way.

Pushing deep into the springboards beneath the carpeting, Linna leaped into the air. With an almost careless twist she landed squarely on Keith's chest. She smiled as she heard ribs snapping. Stepping off the groaning man she saw her class standing, mouths agape just inside the entrance. A louder groan pulled her attention away from them. Keith was standing his face a bloody wreck and his chest a mass of already purpling bruises.

Putting as much of the pain as he could from him he looked at his fellow students. No help there. Well, we will just have to see about that. He grinned and spit out a tooth, making some of them step back involuntarily. One hand fished inside of his shirt as his gaze moved to Linna. "You won't get away this, bitch." Slowly he dragged out a ring on a chain. Some of the students gasped and looked at Linna worriedly. Turning his gaze from the dancer he addressed the class. "You all know what this means!" he shouted waving the ring.

One of the more intrepid students stepped towards the battered man for a closer look. "It's a silver tiger," he said morosely. He'd hoped it would be the black or even the white. "I'm sorry Miss Yamazaki."

Keith stood triumphant. Let's see the bitch get out of this one.

Linna was beginning to panic. All around her students were putting down their gym bags and falling into martial arts stances. Luckily Japanese law forbade, and Hou Bang protocols withheld, the ownership of firearms in the country, otherwise she was sure many of those gathering around her would have used them. Thinking quickly she looked for a way out and found none. Damn it all she'd won! If only he hadn't had the ring. Wait a minute. A smile curled across her bruised mouth. "You mean because of that ring you have to do as he says?" she asked already suspecting the answer.

Unhappy but obedient the crowd murmured, "yes." Some of them saw the smile and waited. They'd only seen Yamazaki wear that smile when she was sure of a win.

Linna nodded at her gym bag. "In the upper compartment there's a small black jewelry box."

Two of the crowd broke away to check. The rest waited, still guarding their prey.

Keith exploded. "What's wrong with you! Get the bitch! She's just stalling to buy time." Wiping away bloody spittle and feeling every bump and jar in his cracked ribs, he staggered towards Linna.

A startled exclamation came from the two who went to check the bag. Everyone turned to look at the two as they bowed towards Linna. One looked up, his eyes bright with joy and relief. "It's Merck's GOLD," he said excitedly, "the gold!"

Keith paled as frightened realization washed through him. He'd just flushed his life down the toilet. He'd never seen Linna wearing a ring and had just assumed she didn't have one. It had never occurred to him that she just didn't like jewelry. If it had been even a silver ring he could probably have gotten away with it. However, a gold meant he'd just attacked someone that old man Chang considered family. He was screwed. That was the long and the short of it.

The class looked at Linna expectantly. Her face turned sour. Despite her earlier anger she wasn't a cold-blooded murderer. "Just get him out of my sight. Then go get changed for class."

Keith watched her with hate filled eyes as they ripped away his ring and tossed him out on the street. You should have killed me, he thought bitterly as they walked back inside and shut the door. Clutching his broken ribs he forced himself up and staggered down the deserted street. You should have killed me.

Leon jogged up the last flight of stairs and tossed his jacket on his chair. Already his in basket was full. Probably with the reams of paperwork that the new chief demanded. Welcome to another great day on the force, Leon said to himself sarcastically. Seating himself before his terminal he opened up his to do file for the day. He'd barely gotten a glance at it before a plain black and white text box appeared.

--Hello Leon--

Leon's eyes widened as he stared at his computer screen. He blinked twice. The letters didn't disappear. Cautiously he typed back. Hello

--You wanted to get in touch with us?--

Oh shit. Now he knew who it was. Breathing deeply, he resumed typing. Yes. . . Is this Nene?

--No. Do you still want our help?--

Yes

--You aren't going to like the answers to the questions you asked."

Leon sat back and looked at the terminal. How far did he dare trust them? Sighing he started typing again. I still have to know. With a bitter finality he hit the enter key.

--GENOM WAS responsible not USSD. No proof. The person in charge of the slaughter was Brian J. Mason.--

Leon's hands curled up in anger as he read the screen. That son of a bitch!

--He's dead Leon. Apparently killed in an 'industrial accident'.--

Yeah right. An accident. Probably picked off by an ambitious underling. Now what?

--Still willing? You can stop here if you want.--

Leon sighed. With the way things were heading the ADP would need all the help they could get. Weighed against his men's lives his integrity was a small price to pay. Still willing.

--Good. I was hoping you would be. To show that this is not all one way, open your bottom desk drawer.--

Leon opened the drawer and pulled out the box lying on top. Curious, he opened it to see a pair of familiar sunglasses.

--Heard you lost yours. We'll be in touch.--

His screen cleared and his to do list came up.

Sylia, dark hair spread like a dark pool on the propped up pillow, finished sneaking out of and erasing her presence from the ADPs computer. Fargo was supposed to have taken care of this but she hadn't been able to reach him all day. If he wanted to get paid he better damn well check in. Double-checking her exit procedures Sylia erased all net records of her access. Better to be too cautious in cases like this than not cautious enough. Directing her own computer to destroy its knowledge of the transaction, Sylia logged off the portable terminal. She hoped he liked the glasses. She'd spent a long time with Mackie getting those things to work right.

Smoke was strangely swirling in the slightly uneven centrifugal gravity of the GENAROS space station. Flames leapt from what had been, until a few moments ago, a car. Her hair blowing in the hot wind from the burning vehicle, Anri stood staring into the flames.

Nam tugged on Anri's arm. "C'mon! She's dead! There nothing more we can do. We've got to go before the next one gets here." Turning away, she yelled towards the shuttle. "Meg, help!"

Swearing in a manner that would have shocked her former 'master' the harried sexaroid ran down and grabbed the other arm of the feebly protesting Anri. Taking the steps two at a time, they swarmed into the shuttle. Behind them a vicious pounding at the door signaled the arrival of the other Doberman. Nam slapped the close switch and the airlock slammed shut. Quickly strapping the weeping Anri into a launch chair, Nam strapped herself in while Meg started the ignition sequence in the cockpit.

Meg watched helplessly as Anri's weeping wracked her body with great sobs. If only they had been able to wait longer perhaps all of them could have made it. But Lous disappearance had forced them to change the time schedule. If one of them could be taken without warning how long would it be until another was? Everything had gone fine until they had gotten into the linear patrol car. Someone, probably that dickless ape Flint, had put a watch on them. The alarm had gone out almost immediately after that. It had been a miracle they had made it as far as they had before one of the Dobermans caught up to them. Sylvie, already hurt by a laser from a linear pursuit car, had told everyone to jump and then had rammed the car down the boomers throat.

"C'mon, C'mon." Nam sat hunched over the control panel waiting for the engines to finish warming. Outside she could still hear the pounding as the rabid attack boomer continued its assault on the armored door. "Finally," she said as the green ready light came on. Pushing the engine lever forward, she engaged the launch sequence. Through the smoke and fire of the igniting engines she could see the Doberman break through the door just in time to get fried. Despite the acceleration she managed a small grin. Now all they had to do was land safely and they should be home free. Tripping the final activation sequence she sent the ORCA into its pre-programmed course.

Wind tossed hair only slightly restrained by her bandanna, Jeena stood looking down at the grave of her former lover. She didn't come her much anymore; it had been several years since she'd killed him after all. Kneeling down, she brushed away the few cut blades of grass and leaves that had fallen on his marker. With a touch of sad reluctance she laid the bottle of beer next to it. Billy had told her once about that. He hadn't liked the idea of flowers being put on his grave. He'd said he wanted something more useful. At the time they'd laughed. A shadow washed over the grave making her look up.

A man dressed in a long black duster stood over the grave. She was a bit irritated. She'd known all of Billy's friends and this guy certainly wasn't one of them. Then she heard, carried on the light breeze, what he'd probably only meant as a whisper. "There, but for the grace of God, go I." Without a word more the stranger placed a rose on the grave and left.

Jeena watched him walk him until he disappeared into the elevator. Before she knelt down again to look at the flower. It was one of the new hybrid varieties, an errie mixture of real plant with synthetic glow-fiber. The effect was that of a dew-touched rose glowing softly. Straightening she walked back to the elevator, oblivious to the falling star passing behind her.

Fingers clenched into white fists, Quincy's resisted the urge to slam the console in frustration. Despite the tension he wasn't going to lose control. Damn it to HELL! No matter how many different ways he tried it the problem couldn't be solved in the time he had with the resources available. Of all the towers around the world only a few including the Tokyo tower and a couple others were anywhere near completion. If only he'd had more time!

Reining in his anger, Quincy sat back and steepled his fingers. Now was not the time to indulge in useless emotionalism, no matter how justified. With a methodical care that had kept him in control through countless crises, the aged executive organized his thoughts and started reviewing his situation.

According to the sensors he had, at best, two weeks before they arrived. Already the orders had gone out to the rest of the company. Every GENOM subsidiary, from the factories that produced the parts for the orbital habitats to those that produced scale models for children, was undergoing massive production changes. Parts, innocuous in their day-to-day use, were being rerouted for use in heavy and light weaponry. Combat boomer production, already high, was being elevated to the greatest speed possible. GENOM tower construction worldwide was being accelerated with lavish funds and the highest possible backing. He'd even started proceedings to bring that now useless war in the Antarctic to a halt. Soon the whole world would be a proving ground for new boomers. Research in every corner of the globe was still going full blast of course. There was no telling how long the war would last and the human race was going to need every advantage it could get. Ignoring the faint icy tinges of fear in his heart Quincy got back to work.

"God Damn it!" The lead singer of the Replicants screamed to the world at large. In a rage she tossed the note filled paper into the air. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to get a firm grip on the style of music that she wanted. In the back of her head she could hear it. The pulse pounding fury of AC/DC or the strange ballad like qualities of Queen sounded clearly. She and Chaz had worked out every piece of music he'd ever heard. Around her, strewn like leaves after a hurricane, were the songs of another century, country and world. She'd played each until her fingers could pick the music perfectly with no effort. So why couldn't she get her mind into it? Every piece of music that she started writing seemed to wind up coming back to the thrash music of the millennium that she had grown up in.

Standing abruptly, she grabbed her helmet and started for her bike. Maybe some wind in her face would help her think. At this point it certainly couldn't hurt. Irritatedly she gunned her engine and pulled out onto the highway. Seconds later she could feel herself relaxing. Something about the sound and feel of wind whipping over her riding leathers had always had a loosening effect on her soul. Sucking in the cold winter air, Priss headed for the Bay Shore. It would put her under the shadow of the GPCC but she could put up with that. The view was terrific and the traffic practically non-existent.

The smell of salt spray filled her nose as she pulled over and removed her helmet. The stars overhead were only glancingly reflected in the turbulent water beneath her giving it the impression of having glitter mixed in the water. Leaning into the railing she let her mind wander. It wasn't really so surprising that she hadn't gotten the complete feel of the music yet. She'd only been working on it for a couple months and she'd worked on retro-thrash for most of her life. It would just take a little more patience. Something, she admitted privately to herself, that she usually didn't have in abundance. Well she'd do it! No matter what it took. As if in answer to her heartfelt vow a blazing meteor streaked overhead. A small smile spread across Priss's face. She'd stopped being superstitious about things a long time ago. But wouldn't it be nice if she could take that as an omen? Sighing deeply she walked back to her bike to start home.

Mason ran a hand through her freshly shorn hair. Most of her passwords and backdoors had been removed but she still had some access beyond what Madigan had given her. It had taken some work but she'd finally managed to track down the copies of USSDs Black Box. Now all she needed to do was get hold of the body of a certain Knight Saber. A blinking alarm icon caught her attention. Madigan was coming. Putting her current files in secure storage, she brought her tentative plans for the destruction of the Knight Sabers back up. Behind her the door swished open. Spinning in her chair to face her opponent Mason stopped, a false welcoming grin slowly fading from the perfect boomer face. Something was seriously wrong here. Madigan's clothes, normally immaculate and freshly pressed were wrinkled. Her face looked haggard. In short, the Chairman's secretary looked like hell. For all the years Mason had known her Madigan had ALWAYS taken pride in her appearance. To see her like this was almost like someone had repealed the law of gravity.

Madigan pulled a gun and held it steadily on the surprised sexaroid. "Alright Mason what did you do?" She knew she shouldn't have let the slimy little weasel out his cage.

Mason blinked and didn't even consider jumping her. Haggard or not there was nothing wrong with her aim. Mason was uncomfortably aware of the Black Box data sitting in the computer behind her. Was it possible that Madigan had found out? No. Madigan had asked what she had done. Which meant something had gone wrong somewhere and the ice bitch was looking for the cause. The hard part was that Mason HADN'T done anything yet. Nothing that would show so soon anyway, she admitted. Given their past history, the problem would be convincing Madigan of that. Keeping very still, Mason looked steadily back at the harried executive and tried the truth. "Hard as it may be to believe Madigan. I haven't done anything." With a relief she tried not to show, Mason watched as Madigan lowered the gun.

"Damn! I was afraid of that." Pocketing the gun. Madigan elbowed the sexaroid away from the computer. With a few keystrokes she brought up a few pieces of data. "Take a look at those."

Irritated at being treated so off-handily, Mason briefly glanced at the data. . . and then stopped. Very carefully she went back up to the top of the page and began reading down. Deep in her synthetic heart she began to feel the chill wind of fear blowing. Yes. She could entirely understand Madigan's panic. In the past few days the Chairman had mobilized GENOM as if for a war. Combat and military boomer production was skyrocketing as consumer production stagnated. The amount of money being poured into tower construction and munitions was staggering even to someone used to spending huge sums on a project.

The changes in corporate policy were not going unnoticed either. Around the world stock markets were going haywire as GENOM preferred stock plummeted and banks found their biggest depositor withdrawing its money. Subpoenas were out for Quincy in no less than five countries. In a move that shocked even Mason to her core, Quincy had dissolved the shadow network of holding companies and proxies that had disguised his ownership of fifty-six percent of the voting stock in GENOM! The only reason he would do that was to make SURE no one could contest what he was doing.

Moving shakily, Mason typed in a couple commands. It didn't really matter if Madigan saw this anymore. A computer lockout slammed down denying her access to the requested data. Mason cursed softly. Someone had taken out his override. Madigan, leaning over the sexaroids shoulder typed in another code. Obediently the screen cleared and the requested data came up. Power grids for the mammoth arcology obediently displayed themselves. Both human and sexaroid gasped. This was the final confirmation. Deep in the heart of the Tokyo GENOM tower the largest computer on the face of the planet had come alive. Only one system used it. Shaking with fear and reaction Mason shutdown the system. All the plans she had been considering had just been thrown out the window. Quincy had activated the OMS.

Fargo reached out with his good arm and dragged himself another couple feet. It was a good thing that he couldn't feel pain. With the way his body was responding he'd have been lucky to make it a block before he was unconscious from shock. Shame really. Everything had gone so well. Right up to the point where he had landed on the C-55 waiting outside. In a tangle of arms and limbs he had managed to stick his gun down the boomers throat and fire it. The covert boomer had exploded nicely. Unfortunately he'd lost his left arm in the process. The two handmaidens had been a bit trickier. In the end it had cost him a leg and a car he'd been rather fond of to take care of them. Now he was in the Mega-Tokyo storm sewer system. If his mental map was right, the hidden entrance to Lady's 633 should be around here somewhere. Sylia'd be surprised to find that he knew it was there at all. Of course she also thought that her meeting him on that beach so long ago had been HER idea. She'd never suspected that it had taken him two years to set it all up. Hmm. . .Nothing on thermograph, not surprising. Katsuhito hadn't raised any idiots. Sylia didn't want anyone to find it after all. How about UV? Nope. Damn it to hell. He'd meant to buy the new eyes when they came out. He'd just been waiting until the price dropped a bit. Now here he was stuck with equipment not quite up to the job. Struggling up to a standing position, he surveyed the wall. Something cold gripped his shoulder firmly. Briefly he contemplated struggling and decided it was probably not worth the effort.

"Fargo you look terrible." Fargo's head came up with a snap. Sylia? Staring back at him was a heavily armed and armored mecha.

The mecha carefully picked him up in a cradle position. "I'm not even going to ask how you found this place." Walking a few paces back the way he'd come, the mecha waited while an undistinguished section of wall slid away. "I think you and I need to have a long talk."

Fargo forced a grin. She didn't know how right she was.

Moving steadily through the dark tunnel the motoroids only break in motion was to allow a second, heavily armored, door to open. Carefully carrying the injured man to a bed the mecha gently eased him onto it.

Fargo relaxed a trifle as the motoroid placed him on the med-centers pallet. In front of him a screen lit up showing the face of Sylia Stingray. Despite the awkwardness of his position the underworld fixer struggled to come up with a snappy line. Finally, giving up the effort, he shrugged.

Sylia smiled. "Not like you to be at a loss for words Fargo."

A slightly strained smile pushed its way past his lips. "You're not exactly catching me at my best."

The leader of the Knight Sabers ran her eye down the battered form of her henchman. "I can see that. Do you need anything for the pain?"

"No. The nerve blocks are doing their jobs. The damage looks worse than it is. Mostly just in the arms and legs."

"Good. Then we can get down to business." Her eyes narrowed. "Let's start at the top than shall we?"

Ignoring the sound of the med-centers scanner, Fargo sighed. This was going to take a while. "How much do you remember about your father's lab twelve years ago?"

The office was dark and quiet, suiting almost perfectly the mood of the man who sat like a granite mountain before the panoramic window. If the clouds gathering outside were any indication of the upcoming weather the ambiance would soon suit his mood perfectly. In a few minutes he was going to have to do something he didn't want to. It was not a common occurrence for the aging executive. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times it had been required. The last time he'd had to do something he didn't want to was almost ten years in the past. Now, that same action was coming back to haunt him. Outside the storm finally broke with a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder. At least he would get some pleasure out of putting Madigan and her pet back in their places. Almost casually, Quincy reached out and touched the intercom. It didn't matter where she was, the computer would track her down and route the message to her. "Madigan come here." The grim face smiled slightly. "Bring Mason with you." Leaving his executive assistant no time for a reply he cut the connection and sat back to wait.

Nene licked her lips and put the finishing touches on her sandwich. With a quick slice of the knife she divided the sandwich in two and deftly moved it to the waiting plate. Grabbing her can of Coke and the plate, she walked back to her terminal. With a cursory eye she went over her program diagnostics. Hmm… Not much progress. With a practiced movement, the redhead swept her hair into a green ribbon and tied it back away from her face. Taking a quick bite of her culinary concoction, Nene pulled on her VR glasses and gloves. After checking to make sure the built-in speakers were seated comfortably the young hacker switched on the display. In a quick buildup of picture and sound the conventional world vanished.

The teen looked happily around her apartment. In contrast to the real world austerity of her home the net home was a work of fantasy art. Brilliant white marble veined with a delicate, fractally generated, pink pattern made up the walls of her electronic abode. Through a window on the South wall of the octagonal room, a knight and a dragon could be seen playing chess on a beautifully manicured, sun drenched lawn. Off in the distance fabulous, mythical avians swooped and sang above a rich Tolkeinesque forest.

Nene sighed and turned from the sylvan setting. As much as she wanted to sit and tinker even further with the environment she had work to do. Lifting the pink ruffle from its edge, Nene rolled under the canopied bed. Counting silently to herself she waited. After twenty seconds in the darkness she reached up and pulled herself into her hideaway.

Where the other room had been bright and cheerful this room was dark and mysterious. An arched stone roof with slowly dripping stalactites rose slowly beyond the light of the torches. A faint breeze blew through the catacomb making the flickering wall scones cast strange surreal shadows on the gray, stone walls. Checking quickly to make sure that her filmy princess garments had changed to this settings more darkly toned neo-ninja outfit, she set out into the dungeon. Walking at a steady pace through the twisting labyrinth, Nene quickly arrived at an iron-banded door. Ignoring the obvious locks and traps the hacker swept her hand across the iron studs that held the iron banding to the thick oak planking. Her nimble fingers tapped out the entry code and moved to grasp the door by the side away from the handle. Pulling the door open, she stepped into her workroom.

Nothing seemed disturbed, she noted carefully. Throughout the transition from her old life to her new this had been the one thing she hadn't been able to give up. She'd worked on the simulations for her little world for most of her life. Thankfully, they were hidden across four different host systems used by hundreds of companies daily. It had been a simple matter to create a series of fake companies to lease the storage space and processing time. Each of the host networks had impeccable reputations but Nene trusted them about as far as she'd trust a rogue boomer. The multiple locks and guardians SHOULD keep her sanctuary safe. But if anyone knew the impossibility of an intrusion proof system, Nene did. Practiced eyes swept over hidden tell-tales and alarms. Still, everything seemed okay and none of her telltales were tripped.

Patting the guardian gargoyle programs on their heads, she walked over and grabbed the map from its cubbyhole. Unrolling it on the desk she examined the information her spy sprites had gleaned. As her eyes danced roved over the virtual map her hands disconnected from the simulation enough to bring her sandwich to her mouth. Almost oblivious to the intake of calories, her mind explored the possibilities inherent in the map. Looked like a pretty straightforward job. A little on the difficult side but nothing she couldn't handle. Reconnecting her hands, she rolled up the map and began sorting her tools. Half an hour later the black clad ninja swept out into the net.

For the twentieth time Leon took the sunglasses off and looked at them. Despite the fact that he knew what they did, it was still hard to accept. If things like this were ever put on the market they'd fetch more money than he'd make in five years. A quirk of a smile showed at the corner of his mouth. Even at those kinds of prices the manufacturer wouldn't make much of a profit.

Placing the glasses back on his face, he tried not to flinch as the earpieces flexed themselves to fit better. The single, thick lens was opaque for a moment and then seemed to fade into invisibility. A smile stole across Leon's face. The invisibility was just an illusion. The lens was just as thick and dark as ever but his eyes weren't receiving light anymore. Inside the multilayered electronic system that made up the sunglasses lenses was a series of carefully constructed and tuned electromagnets. These inducted a signal right into the optic nerve bypassing the lens entirely. This virtual light system gave a MUCH greater clarity for the enhanced optic systems contained in the glasses then the best color LCD system could at a much reduced power output.

Shrugging, Leon pulled on his riding leathers and headed for the elevator. The night had been pretty slow and he wanted to field test his present with no around. Zipping up his jacket against the cold, he made his way to his bike. Looked like another clear, cold night. Moving his point of view up to the trigger point he activated the glasses's thermograph.

It had been kind of strange at first but the setup program had quickly relieved most of his worries. Now it was like playing with a new toy. The micro-diamond lenses on the front surface of the glasses were nearly impossible to scratch and gave the imbedded sensors incredible range and power. Thermograph, Ultraviolet and nightsight were just a few of the possibilities. In addition, each spectrum had it own series of zooms and real-time computer enhancements. Moreover, since the light wasn't real he couldn't be blinded by an overload. The system would simply filter it out even closing his eyes didn't disrupt the perceived images.

Leon checked the ignition and pulled on his gloves. Driving his foot down on the kick-start the dark hared inspector started the engine. Despite the extra cost, he preferred a real gas engine. The extra power it gave made it worth it. Looking around, he could see everything as if it were day. Giving his first real laugh in weeks, Leon sped into the night.

Standing sky-clad in front of a complicated fractal pattern Chaz keyed on the system and eyed the mirror warily. The cameras would doubtless catch more but he wanted to see the results first-hand. After a couple seconds warm up time, the program activated the microscopic, holographic diodes built into his skin. With a slight ripple of light his image disappeared from the mirror. Though none could see it a Cheshire cat grin was sitting smugly on the boomeroids face. Sylia had finally come through with a program that worked! She'd tried three times to correct the exceedingly buggy GENOM software before giving up and rewriting the whole thing afresh.

Keeping a close eye on the mirror, Chaz waved his arm. Hmm. . . nothing. Experimentally he waved the arm faster and faster. At almost his top speed, a little lag in the refresh became noticeable. Making a mental note on Sylia's checklist he moved on to the next test.

Still using the mirror for reference, he started jumping up and down. Almost immediately a slight lag appeared. Chaz frowned. That could be a problem. Marking the results he walked over to the terminal. He hated this part, but Sylia had said to be thorough. Plugging into the terminal he activated the link and break in routines.

/Sorry boss. That's a no go. I don't have the capacity to run both at the same time./

-You sure?-

Abruptly the world sped up as the processing power of his AI took a major hit. Just as suddenly it snapped back to normal.

/I'm sure lover. Normal refresh, cloak, and a class one program, you get to pick two. The second the third comes online I can't keep up anymore./

-What about superfast refresh and the cloak?-

Newton chuckled. -Definitely a no go. When we do that every free resource is used.-

Unplugging from the system Chaz dropped the cloak. Oh well, he thought, it would have been nice to be fast and invisible. Still, having a choice between the two wasn't too bad. Making a final notation to Sylia's checklist the pleased boomeroid headed for the changing room.

Deep in his AI Newton wondered if she'd done the right thing. She'd been built to give her system controller complete, accurate information. Telling a deliberate lie wasn't something she was supposed to be capable of. Using a physiological mannerism she'd picked up from Chaz, she shrugged her metaphorical shoulders. It wasn't as if she could just tell her lover that he could have the cloak and the fast refresh if she shut herself down. Things between them were becoming strained enough without adding that.

"ORCA-4 this is Mega-Tokyo tower. Come in ORCA-4. This is Mega-Tokyo tower calling GENAROS shuttlecraft ORCA-4. Do you read?" With a slight crackle of static the message broke up came back and began repeating itself.

Meg's eyes flickered open. Why wouldn't the miserable little human shut up? Groggily the sexaroid lifted her head. Nagging bits of pain thrust small spears into her ribs and neck where the stress of the sudden stop had done some damage. Ignoring the pleading voice on the radio, she struggled to straighten her senses. The smells of burnt insulation and automatic flame extinguishers hit her first snapping her awake. The ORCA had never been designed for this kind of landing. Shaking her head, she managed to clear her vision. Despite the red glow of the emergency lighting the cockpit seemed okay. The monitors were dead of course, but she'd have been surprised if they hadn't been. Slapping the quick release on her safety harness, Meg pushed herself out of the chair and staggered towards the rear. She had to get Nam and Anri up quickly before anyone arrived to check out the crash. Pressing the hatch button she waited for a split second before reaching for a covered side panel. Cursing, she ripped the plastic covering off and worked the manual hydraulic override to slide the door aside. A sigh of relief passed her perfect lips as she saw her friends in good condition. Anri was unconscious but looked like she'd be around in a minute. Nam was pawing at her safety harness obviously still a little dazed from the landing. Moving with a speed and sureness honed through hours of space work, Meg freed both women. With an almost effortless pull the boomeroid hauled Nam to her feet and then turned to pick Anri up. "Wake up Anri," she said lightly slapping her face. "Nam get the door," she said, half carrying the murmuring form Anri towards the exit.

With a squeal of protesting metal, the shuttles door slid in and away from its airtight gasket. Standing in the early morning sunlight for the first time, the three awed boomers stared in silence at the slightly charred landscape before them. This is what they'd worked so hard and so long for. After years of slavery they were free.

Nam was the first to break the spell. "We've got to get moving. They'll be here soon looking for us." Kicking the inflatable emergency slide free from its bag she activated the compressed gas canister.

The harsh ringing of the phone dragged Leon from his fitful slumber. Not moving his head from it warm place on the pillow the ADP detective snaked a hand out from under his covers and flailed at the phone. Finally managing to get a grasp on the receiver he dragged it back to his shoulder. "This had better be God calling or you are in a world of trouble," he growled at his unknown assailant.

"Leon, get out of bed and come down to the station," a female voice on the other end whispered.

Sitting up in bed Leon snatched up his cigarettes. "Who is this?"

"It's Naoko," the voice whispered. "Listen, there's something fishy going on here. We got a bunch of calls from the spaceport a little while ago asking us to come investigate a crash site. Seems a GENAROS shuttle had a bit of a mishap. About five minutes ago Fujiura called in to tell us to drop the investigation because it was being handled by SDPC and N-police. The funny part is that I heard from a friend that they even pulled the N-police off. Told them to keep people out but not to go near the site itself. No ambulances or anything."

Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, Leon got out of bed and started getting dressed. "Doesn't sound as if their too worried about the pilot and the SDPC shouldn't be investigating a GENAROS crash anyway. Where'd it crash?"

"About 35km west of the city."

Switching shoulders to pull on his shirt, he reached for his gun harness. "How long ago?"

"From what I can gather about twenty minutes ago."

He did a quick bit of mental schedule searching. "Okay here's what your gonna do. Have Kana and Moroshi come pick me up in a Road Chaser." He grabbed his pants. "Get a combat chopper warmed up, on the pad and ready to go by the time I get there. I'll take responsibility. Don't tell the pilot where were going just make sure he gets his tanks topped off. Lose the voice record of Fujiuras order for a while. Hopefully I can get up to the site before SDPC manages to get off its inefficient ass."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, hurry. This sounds big." Hanging up the phone, Leon grabbed his jacket and sunglasses and headed for the door. After playing with his sunglasses for most of the night he'd hoped to be able to sleep in. This would have to happen on day off. Stifling a yawn he hurried down the stairway.

"So you were father's first test subject?" Sylia concluded.

Fargo looked on gloomily as the med-center put another layer of synthetic skin over his damaged cybernetics. Damn! This was going to be more expensive then he'd thought to fix. It was a miracle he'd made it. "Yes and no. I was his first SUCCESSFUL test subject. He'd tried the neurophages on other experimental animals but there hadn't been much in the way of results. He later worked out a formula that expressed the increase in intelligence as a function of the original brains complexity."

"Why wasn't any of this in his records?"

Fargo shrugged awkwardly. "It probably was on the first data unit."

Sylia was shocked. "The first one?"

"After Mason broke in and shot everything in sight it took me a while to recover enough to move. Probably just as well, the maniac probably would have just shot me again. Dr. Stingray wasn't quite dead yet but he was going fast by the time I made it over to him…"

Slowly the world swam back into view. Panic momentarily gripped him as the sight of the orange flames stirred his subconscious. Savagely Fargo beat back the fear. Katsu and he had labored long and hard to bring forth the sentient being he was now and he was damned if a little fire was going to undo all that work. Katsu! In a rush he remembered. Looking down he eyed the three holes in his chest. Despite the pain he knew there wasn't much damage. Katsu had designed this body with his usual attention to detail. All of the major support systems had backups so the bullets had only managed to incapacitate rather than kill. Even now his mostly biological systems were slowly repairing themselves. Assured of his own continued survival the former orangutan looked around for his mentor and father. With a decidedly more intelligent fear he pulled his still protesting body towards the slumped figure of Dr. Stingray. Gently rolling the limp body over, fingers probed the neck for a pulse. There! Faint, but it was there.

"Katsu?"

Immediately the dark intelligent eyes blinked open. "Fargo. I had hoped you'd survive." In an instant the doctor took in the scene. Flames leaping over the equipment and the bodies lying around him. "Damn him to hell." Seemingly oblivious to the pain the scientist looked up at his protégé. "My legs don't work. Can you carry us out of here?"

Fargo did a quick systems check. "No sir. I might be able to make it out before the flames hit the storage room but I couldn't carry you. Don't worry though I'll stay here with you until the end." To his surprise he saw anger light the gentle mans face.

"Don't be an idiot. I know you can think better than that." Katsuhito struggled to see over the lab table and failed, his mind unable to force his body to work. "Did he get my data units?"

Fargo looked over at the recorder. "Looks like he got the first one. He missed the one that was still in system though."

Katsuhito chuckled tremulously. "Won't do them any good. Only three brains in the world can decipher that material." Hands trembling with strain the scientist pulled Fargo down close to him. "The units are encoded with a neural pattern. Only my children and myself can read those files. I want you to get that tape to Sylia." Slowly his grip relaxed and the scientist leaned back up against the cabinet. Even as death neared the dark eyes held the fire of intelligence barely restrained. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you Fargo. You've come a long way since you woke up."

Fargo tried to ignore the hissing sound he heard coming from the materials storage room. "I wouldn't have made it with out you. I'm not sure I can make it on my own."

Katsuhito smiled that special way one last time. "You'll do just fine my boy. Just fine." Slowly, as if glowing coals were being doused, the fire in the doctor's eyes went out.

Almost reluctantly Fargo lowered the doctors body to the ground. In the background he could hear the hissing and snapping as the more sensitive of the labs machinery began to burn. If he was lucky he'd have just enough time to grab the data unit and get out.

"So what happened?"

Fargo smiled. "I misjudged the timing a bit. Just before I made it to the side exit the lab went up in the first of several explosions. I managed to protect the data unit but I was burned pretty badly. I mailed the unit to you as soon as I scraped up the cash. I didn't really have a plan at first. Just getting by day to day took up most of my time." He shrugged. "I couldn't go to a hospital without identification. Moreover, any doctor that took one look at my insides would have been impossible to keep quiet. Word would have eventually got back to Mason. So I had to wait a few years for my face to heal naturally. I found a niche in the lower levels of the Yakuza. They don't ask too many questions."

Sylia smiled. That explained a few things. "So what made you come back?"

"You. I'd kept an eye on you through the years. When your paperwork for emancipation went into the system I had a couple of my friends ensure that it would be approved." He paused in recollection. "You have no idea how close it came Sylia. Quincy didn't have the clout then that he does now or you wouldn't have got away with it. As it was I had to threaten a couple people." He sighed. "After that I just kept discreet tabs on you. After a couple years most of the spies that GENOM had on you got pulled for other things. The couple that remained I had in my pocket so I wasn't too worried about them. Then, about six years ago, I noticed something." He smirked. "Money was going missing from your accounts. I'd kept an eye on them to make sure nobody cheated you. I figured that someone had hacked into your financial records and was siphoning off the money." He grinned at Sylia. "It took almost a year and more money than I care to think about to find out what was going on. At the end of a very long, spaghetti like chain of cross accounts, money laundering, bribes and dummy companies who did I find holding the strings for the whole deal?"

"Me," Sylia sighed.

Fargo grinned. "Exactly. The first thing I did was clean up your tracks a bit better. The files and connections that I had put together could probably be traced again by anyone willing to put forth the effort. When I was done there wasn't any evidence left to connect you to the numbered Swiss accounts. In fact I had to move quickly once or twice to make sure you kept control of them. After that I sat back and watched the flow of the money. It took another year but I finally pieced together what you were doing. The big tip off was the money being funneled to Dr. Raven. It was astounding! Here you were, only nineteen, getting set to form a mercenary group. It didn't take a genius to see what you wanted it for."

Sylia sipped her tea and tried to ignore the twinge caused by the movement. "Revenge wasn't my only motive."

The boomeroid gave a facial shrug. "Didn't say it was. It was the most obvious one though. But your plans weren't complete. Dr. Raven provided the technical end of things well enough. After the quake it was easy to supply him with enough money to set up shop in an out of the way place. You were going to need a contact man though. I checked around and found that most of those who could do the job were all too likely to turn you in when things got too rough. With you going up against GENOM it wasn't a question of if."

She saw it now. "So you made yourself THE contact man in Mega-Tokyo. When I finally went looking you must have had a couple years to ensure I'd pick you."

"Right." His face took on a worried expression. "Except that now I'm no good to you any more. Despite my best efforts they finally managed to track me down. I have no doubts that there are people that know me just waiting for me to show my face again."

Sylia smiled. "Obviously you haven't seen the netcast lately. Whatever your priority may have been I assure you it's lower now."

Nervously Madigan and Mason stood before the Chairman. Even now, in the supposedly soundproof office, they could hear the sound of boomers and construction crews hard at work. Somewhere above them the final seventy-five meters were being added at ruinous expense. They'd been standing there for ten minutes with still no indication from the Chairman of exactly what he wanted. Considering how he had been acting lately neither was sure they wanted to find out.

Oblivious to the noise and the nervous stares of his underlings Quincy sat silently in front of his blast proof window watching the sunrise over his city. The atmosphere had just enough residual pollution left to tint the emerging light a beautiful shade of orange. This was the second sunrise he'd seen since the last time he'd slept and there would probably be a third before he had things arranged well enough to allow himself to get some rest. His eyes found his assistants reflection in the glass. Not an ounce of appreciation for the beauty before them. Still, they were useful tools and he had no more time to make new ones.

How far had they managed to track his activities of the past few hours? Gauging from their expressions they probably knew most of what was going on even if they didn't know why. Quincy took a measured second to feel satisfaction over his creations.

Of course they were more than a bit upset about the sudden change in operating methods. He'd bypassed them for most of the decisions, making it plain to everybody EXACTLY who was giving the orders. There was no time and the orders were sufficiently strange that even orders from these two would have been referred back to him. Better to make it plain from the start. Now that things were moving in the right direction he could start delegating again.

Mason controlled a flinch as the implacable gaze of the Chairman swept over her. Damn! Fifteen years and the old man could STILL make him afraid with a glance. But… Something's not right here. The granite face isn't perfect. There's something… God! Carefully hidden shock coursed down Mason's spine. The old man's scared! It was just a glint, like the flash of weakness in a dragon's eye. But it was there. Mason fought down the superior smile threatening to steal across her face. Madigan won't see it. The bitch loves her perfect vision of him too much to look for it.

The satisfaction was short lived as her mind turned over the new information. What in the Hell could have done it? Deep in her heart Mason felt the icy wind of fear beginning to grow into a gale. Despite her hatred for the man she was well aware of the nature of her adversary. Quincy is no coward and he never jumps at shadows. Then it struck her. Whatever it is he doesn't think the OMS will be enough! Masons mind balked at the concept. With the OMS in operation Quincy could topple governments, destroy cities, and lay waste to entire regions of the globe. Still the old man didn't think it was going to be enough! In her life Mason could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that she had been scared. Even when Madigan had the gun on him she'd still been in control. For the first time in her life, Mason realized she was terrified.